A rebbe related a comment that he heard in
the faculty room of a Yeshiva where he was a Rebbe. Ramban in Parshas
Beha’aloscha (10:35) quotes a Medrash which states that Klal Yisroel left Mount
Sinai “like a child running away from school”. In other words, they were happy
to leave that holy place because they were afraid that G-d would add more
commandments or prohibitions. As Parshas Beha’aloscha is invariably read close
to the conclusion of the school year, the Rebbe wryly commented, “I don’t know
why the Medrash says they ran away like children fleeing school. It should have
said like Rabbeim and Teachers fleeing school!”

The Menorah has a special place in the
heart of a Jew. Many a Menorah stands outside a shul, not only on Chanukah, but
all year round. In addition, the depiction of the imprisoned Jews marching into
exile hoisting the Menorah above their heads on their way into Rome
is engraved in the walls of the Arch of Titus built to symbolize Titus’s
destruction of Jerusalem.
Yet the picture is a source of inspiration for it symbolizes that despite
millennia in exile, we still proudly bear the Menorah aloft.

The Menorah symbolizes that our mission is
to be a light unto the nations. It also symbolizes that although we kindle the
lights of the Menorah, it is the light of the Menorah that sustains and guides
us.

At the beginning of Parshas Beha’aloscha
when Aharon is commanded about the procedure to prepare and kindle the lights
of the Menorah in the Mishkan on a daily basis, the Torah states that “Aharon
did so; toward the face of the Menorah he kindled its lamps, as Hashem had
commanded Moshe.[1]”
Rashi comments that the pasuk is coming, “to express to us the praise of Aharon
that he never changed.” What insight is Rashi trying to convey? Why at a later
point would Aharon alter the commands instructed to him? In addition, why does
the verse need to state that Aharon did as he commanded; would we have thought
otherwise?

The day a young man dons his tefillin for
the first time is an exciting milestone and a prodigious occasion. He arrives
early in shul and recites the introductory prayers which describe the
significance and merit of the mitzvah of tefillin. Then, he removes the new
tefillin from the new bag and gently kisses them. His parents, family, and
friends stand around him as he proudly dons the tefillin and wraps the straps
around his hand and head.

When davening is completed, after a few
pictures, kisses and tissues for Bubby and Mommy, the event is over. The next
day, the young man’s excitement is still palpable, albeit not with the same
intensity of the previous day. But with the passage of time that initial
excitement fades into nebulous oblivion[2].

We can ponder how different it would be if
the bar mitzvah boy lived in Germany
in 1937. Five years later, he finds himself an orphaned and traumatized
teenager in Bergen-Belsen, and he has not seen
a pair of tefillin in over two years. Then one morning he is woken up by his friend
who tells him that one of the new inmates who arrived at the camp the day
before had smuggled in a pair of tefillin and was willing to lend them out for
a few moments to anyone who wants. He immediately jumps up and rushes to join
the others, risking his life to perform the precious mitzvah for just a few
moments…

By nature, we are excited and wowed by originality
and innovation. Something we have never seen or done piques our curiosity. But
even the most exciting novelties become trite with time. Even the thrill of a
new luxury vehicle does not last too long.

This is what transpired to the Jews in the
desert. Although that generation is known as the dor de’ah – the
generation of wisdom, the Torah records their mishaps in “human terms” so we
can learn from their errors.

Throughout their forty years in the desert,
the nation was sustained by the manna falling each morning. Undoubtedly, the
first day it fell the nation rejoiced and praised of G-d for the miraculous
food. However, even the extreme miracles of the dessert, like manna, miraculous
clouds, clothing never wearing out, and a steady pool of fresh water
accompanying them, became commonplace and “natural” with time, and the nation
began to complain.

They cried out that they wanted ‘real
foods’, foods like they had when they were back in Egypt. (11:6) “But now our lives
are parched, there is nothing; we have nothing to anticipate but the manna.”
Rashi notes that the following verse is G-d’s imagined response, as it were,
“Now the manna was like coriander seed and its color was like the color of the
bedolach”. In other words, “See what My children are complaining about; the
manna which is so unique and distinguished.” The nation no longer appreciated
the greatness of the manna.

On the words in Shema “אשר
אנכי מצוך היום – that I am commanding you today[3]”.
Sifrei states, “Every day it should be in your eyes as if it is new.”

How can we be expected to experience
something as new when in reality it is thousands of years old?

Rabbi Aharon Leib Shteinman shlita explains
that those things that we require in order to live – such as food, shelter, and
air – the fact that I had those things yesterday doesn’t help me for today.
Each day I must have those things anew in order to survive.

That is how one must view Torah learning.
Each day he should view it as new in the sense that he must view Torah as a
necessity for his daily life and growth. The fact that one studied Torah and
performed mitzvos yesterday does not help him today. Every day one needs a new
dose in order to nurture his soul.

The greatness of Aharon was that to him the
mitzvah of kindling the lights of the Menorah NEVER became stale or trite to
him. He never lost his original excitement and awe that he felt on the first
day when he performed the Service.

Excitement is not generated by ‘things’ or
‘events’ but rather by our perception, appreciation, and understanding of them.
Two people can watch a championship game together. One of them may be screaming
and waving wildly, pumping his fists, and banging on the wall, while the other
is yawning and looking at his watch. The first person is an avid fan while the
second is completely apathetic.

On a greater level, two people can enter a
shul to pray and have diametrically different experiences. The first emerges
uplifted and spiritually revitalized, while the second leaves indifferent, as
he checks his email on his blackberry.

Is davening an exciting and meaningful
experience? It depends how one perceives prayer and how much one invests in it!

Aharon’s original passion never wavered
because he constantly reflected and reminded himself of the opportunity he
merited. He never allows his performance to become passé.

As much as we wish life would be more
vivacious and effervescent, most of life is characterized by mundane
trivialities and banalities of ‘the daily grind’. It is the usual challenges of
balancing bills, time pressures, familial and community responsibilities,
financial struggles, spending quality family time, a bit of leisure, as well as
balancing our spiritual responsibilities.

We constantly seek sources of excitement
and other ways to keep ourselves motivated. For some, that awakening may come
from a fire-truck, for others from a vacation, and for someone else it may be a
new car or a house. Yet, there are those individuals who seem to enjoy life each
day. They draw inspiration from Shabbos and holidays and find great
satisfaction in availing themselves to others and performing acts of kindness.
Everything they do becomes an emotional experience full of meaning and purpose.
It may seem like they are doing the same things everyone else is, but it sure
is a different life! They live a life which is “Al pi Hashem yachanu v’al pi Hashem yisau- By the Word of G-d they
camped and by the Word of G-d they traveled.”

[2] In
yeshiva, on the day boys don their tefillin for the first time they often give
out donuts or another delicious treat to their friends. I often tell the new
tefillin wearer that if I was as excited as he was about putting on my own
tefillin that morning, I would have also brought in donuts for everyone.

This year Chani and I were privileged to be among the 1800 educators who participated in the annual Torah Umesorah convention a few weeks ago, at the Split Rock resort in the Pocono Mountains.

Late Thursday evening, our first night there, we realized
that we had forgotten our cell phone chargers at home. The resort is
quite large, and being that there are so many events happening
simultaneously, when we wanted to find each other it would be inconvenient to be without a cell phone.

On Friday morningwe contemplated our options, and after some inquires found out that Chani’s sister in Lakewood had an extra charger. Rabbi Rothstein, Bais Hachinuch’s assistant Menahel was leaving Lakewood to come to the convention a short time later. I called my brother-in-law and he graciously brought the charger to Rabbi Rothstein’s home just as Rabbi Rothstein was beginning to back out of his driveway.

When Rabbi Rothstein arrived I thanked him for bringing the charger and helping provide me with material for a Musings.

We all have a certain amount of energy and motivation which carries us through our daily affairs. But invariably we hit a point when we feel drained - emotionally and physically. Those are times when we need chizuk from others.

It’s often mentioned that we can never know just how much encouragement we can give someone else by listening to them, calling to see how they are doing, and sometimes even by merely smiling at them and offering a kind word. We all have moments or days when we feel down and alone. A real friend or close family will act as our ‘charger’ and provide us with a charge/boost when we lack our own.

It’s
worthy for us to remember that so we can seek to provide our friends,
neighbors, and family with a charge when they might need it.

In conclusion, I just want to add that I didn’t have a replacement charger, and my phone lasted until the end of the convention. Draw your own conclusions.